


So Join The Swelling Choral Song

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Fred wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject; as a matter of fact, he wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for Win. After all, Morse’s secrets were his own to keep, and the lad surely had taken precautions.An Endeavour Halloween story.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Sam Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39





	So Join The Swelling Choral Song

**Author's Note:**

> So here is another Endeavour Magical Realism Fic to celebrate spooky season. Enjoy!

Fred wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject; as a matter of fact, he wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for Win. After all, Morse’s secrets were his own to keep, and the lad surely had taken precautions.

But Win had insisted he hadn’t. With an expression he remembered from the war – the day she had insisted on marrying him, no matter that he’d soon be back at the front – she’d told him “That boy hasn’t set foot into our house for weeks now, ever since he felt Reginald.”

“Are you sure –“ he’d tried to protest, but she’d only looked at him and he’d known.

And here he was, having taken Morse with him to the pub, trying to find the right words.

And – well –

“Here” he said, passing him a sandwich.

Morse stared at it as if he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Our Win made it for you” he added.

“I – Mrs. Thursday – why?”

“Well, you see” he began carefully. “Win noticed something the last time you were at our house, and ever since then she’s been a bit worried about you…”

Morse’s face closed off. He’d gone about it the wrong way, then. Wonderful – now he’d decline any further conversation. He knew how it went.

But, instead, to his surprise, Morse started stammering. “I – it’s not – I promise I – I would _never_ – you have to believe that – it’s – I don’t – “

Fred tried to understand the what he was saying. “Morse, I don’t think –“

“I am truly sorry. I am sure it’s gone now?”

“What should be gone?”

“The ghost”. It was almost a whisper.

He stared at him. “Why should Reginald be gone?”

“Reginald?”

He shrugged as he unpacked his own sandwich, hoping that his example would lead Morse to eat something for once. “He picked out his name before Superintendent Bright was ever transferred to Cowley”.

“Picked out – why would it pick out its name –“

“He” Win was rather touchy when it came to that subject “He needed it because Win always tries to give them one. Says it makes them calm down, and really – “

“Mrs. Thursday communicates with ghosts?”

Fred blinked. Why would he ask the question in that tone – partly scandalized, partly well and truly shocked, as if he’d never have guessed that Win would ever get up to such a thing. “Well, yes. She’s had the gift since she was a child, I assumed –“

“The _gift_!?”

No, he hadn’t been mistaken – pure shock, and – was that even disgust? What the bloody hell was going on –

Morse stood up abruptly. “I need to – I need to check up on some leads, sir.”

What leads? They didn’t have any urgent cases at the moment –

“I – I’ll see you at the station, sir –“

And he was gone, leaving the sandwich behind.

* * *

Morse had been skittish and stand-offish the entire afternoon, and during their after-dinner drink, he told Win all about their talk, and that he’d apparently failed spectacularly.

When he had finished, Win was frowning. “That’s not good. It sounds to me as if he doesn’t want anything to do with his gift – and you know that’s bad for one’s health.”

Might explain why Morse was such a twig, really.

Win, growing more agitated, stood up to top off their drinks. “That poor boy! Someone in his life, maybe that father and stepmother of his, probably taught him it’s something evil – and now here he is, all alone –“

A thump.

“Sorry, Sally” she apologized to the ghost who was currently residing in their living room. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

She left the room, coming back shortly dressed in her coat. “I am going to see him right now. This is untenable – we live in the Sixties, for – oh Fred!”

“Win, I’m not sure –“

“He needs to be taught how to use his gift, and as soon as possible” she said sharply, obviously determined, and went to the kitchen, undoubtedly about to put together a care package.

And so, he resigned himself to spend the evening with the children. When he told them, they’d understand; they hadn’t grown up with Win’s gift for nothing.

* * *

Morse had desperately hoped that DI Thursday hadn’t noticed his reaction when he’d felt it.

It was his own bloody fault. He’d spent too much time at the Thursdays’; he’d brought the ghost there.

And so, keeping away had been the only thing to do. At his flat, he had put protections in place as soon as he had moved in, but there was no way he could do that without the Thursdays noticing.

And now he’d learned Mrs. Thursday was –

He was pacing up and down his living room when someone knocked on the door. Frowning, he went to open – was he behind with the rent?

But no, it was –

“Mrs. Thursday!?” he burst out. How could she be here? And how could she be –

Because she couldn’t be. Mrs. Thursday was so good, so friendly, so gentle – she was nothing like – like –

“Hello, dear, I am so sorry to disturb you, but I really think we need to talk” she brushed past whim and came to a standstill, frowning. “Oh. Did your landlord force you to do this?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The wardings” she actually shivered. “It must be so uncomfortable for you –“

Yes, he tended to get headaches and usually didn’t sleep well, but those were small prices to pay, all things considered…

She put down a basket on his kitchen table. “I brought you a few things to eat; you look like you could need it.”

 _See_ , he pleaded he didn’t know with whom, _she isn’t bad. She can’t be. It’s a – it’s an accident, her powers. They have to be._

“You really should take better care of yourself” she said quietly. “I know it can’t be easy, not with your gift –“

“Mrs. Thursday” he interrupted her quickly, “I – I have been given to understand” he lowered his voice “That is, DI Thursday let me know that you, too, happen to be – afflicted –“

“Afflicted?” now she looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean my gift? I assure you, I’ve never suffered because of it.”

The way she was looking at him made him suspect that she believed he had suffered under this curse that had made itself known soon after Mum had died (at least she had never had to live with that shame), and she would have been right – but – God – he was getting a headache again. He reached up to rub his forehead.

“See” she said firmly but gently, pushing him down on a chair. “That’s what happens.” She didn’t elaborate. “Now, I’ll just warm this up for you real quick, and you’ll have a proper dinner.”

He could only comply, and the stew was excellent, as always when Mrs Thursday managed to get him to eat with them.

 _Had_ gotten him. All of that was a thing of the past now. He would never set foot in their home again, if he could help it.

She bustled around as he forced himself to clean his plate, despite the headache stifling what little appetite he had –

Until it was suddenly gone and he could finish his meal; Mrs. Thursday had sat down across from him with a smile on her face.

He only understood when she got up to clean the table and he felt –

“Mrs. – “

“Now, that’s much more like it” she said happily. “How’s your head, dear?”

“I – “ he couldn’t deny that he felt much better. “But –“

“No buts. I deactivated all these terrible wardings, they were really bad for you.”

But –“

“Endeavour”. Her using his first name – her _knowing_ his first name – startled him into silence, as did her gently taking his hand. “Fred told me – told me that you seemed to think your gift is something bad.”

“It is.”

“No. It’s not.”

“I – I can feel ghosts” he suddenly rushed out, “Communicate with them, if I try. They – the just come to me – I never attempted–“

“Yes, I figured as much… oh you poor boy!”

He was older than both of her children, but he had the feeling that she wouldn’t take well to the objection.

* * *

“Our gift… it’s not good or evil. It’s just something we are born with, no matter when it manifests… and… may I guess… was it after your mother died?”

If it didn’t develop during childhood, it often arrived at a trying time in one’s life, and from what Fred had told her…

He nodded somewhat miserably, his eyes downcast.

“Alright” she squeezed his hand. “I’ll make us some tea, and then we’ll talk.”

* * *

The truth was, he didn’t want to talk. He had spent years trying to get rid of the – of the – of what he and Mrs. Third had through sheer stubbornness, had never indulged any of the lost souls who were clamouring for his attention, had put up the wardings, no matter how they made him feel; and now Mrs. Thursday just expected him to talk about it as if it was nothing.

He already knew he would, though; he still found it impossible to lie to her.

* * *

Poor Endeavour was preoccupied and silent; Win knew she shouldn’t have exploited that fact, but she couldn’t help it – he looked exhausted and drawn out, more so than ever before; he needed a good night’s rest.

And so, she made different teas for the two of them. She simply had her usual brew, but Endeavour…

Well, a little magnolia bark and valerian root never harmed anyone, and it wasn’t like she was drugging him – the tea should simply soothe his mind and allow him to relax, making sure that when he turned in, he got some restoring sleep instead of tossing and turning, as he undoubtedly usually did with those wardings in place.

“Now, Endeavour” she began – according to the customs of their people, they only ever addressed each other with their first name – “You have the gift.”

He nodded somewhat miserably.

“And that is a good thing” she said firmly.

“I really don’t see how, Mrs. Thursday” he admitted.

“It’s Win. And you get to help poor spirits who are trapped in this mortal plane, aid them in moving on – you can’t believe the sensation of peace I normally get from them as their last farewell. Sometimes, of course, they want to stay for a while, and a few _like_ being ghosts. I don’t think >Reginald I going anywhere soon.”

“But – I – it*s unnatural.”

“What? Of course not. It’s one of the most natural things there is!”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“Look” she tried “You don’t think _I’m_ evil, do you?”

It was a low blow, counting on his obvious fondness for her, but it did the trick. He blushed, looked everywhere but at her, finally mumbled, “Of course not. But sometimes –“

“No _sometimes_. Talents like ours aren’t good or evil. They just are.” She knew she would be repeating herself forever – knew there was nothing to do but to make him see sense by slowly and steadily telling him the truth – but it would have to be a work of time as well, so she changed the subject. “Fred tells me you solved another case the other day – not that I know the details, the hatstand rule –“

He seemed surprised but soon, they were simply gossiping, Endeavour relaxing more and more.

Excellent.

When she realized he was growing drowsy, she finished her tea and got up. “I’ll just check on those wardings one more time, make sure I didn’t overlook any.”

“You really don’t have to –“

“Just finish your tea, dear” and she hurried away, having had another idea.

Granted, it was a bit… sneaky; and he certainly wouldn’t have agreed with it; but by the looks of it, it had been months if not years since he’d got a proper rest, and they looked after their own; she had the responsibility to care for him now (she conveniently ignored that she’d always been ready to do that).

And so, she quickly turned off his alarm and slipped back into the kitchen to find him cleaning up their cups.

“Now, dear” she said softly after having filled his fridge with leftovers despite his protests, “You have to promise me you won’t bring on new wardings once I’ve left.”

He tried to mumble something non-committal, but she wouldn’t allow it. “Please, Endeavour.”

Finally, she managed to make him look her in the eyes and promise.

She smiled and drew him into a quick hug. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

As she left, she communicated to the two ghosts she felt bustling about that now was not a good time to try and make contact with Endeavour. Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

He hadn’t said anything about tomorrow, he told himself when the door had closed behind Mrs. Thursday, although he did feel a bit guilty as he did so.

But he would do what he had to do. Yes, her assurances had been nice, but then, Mrs. Thursday would never be tempted to use her…. Gift, as she called it, for evil, as he undoubtedly would have been eventually.

Yet it was nice, not to feel the pull of the wardings for once, to walk around his place without aches and a vague sense of being cornered. And he really could do without the headache, he decided as he got ready for bed.

He was even pleasantly tired, instead of weary and exhausted; he might actually get a few hours of –

Being out as soon as his head hit the pillow, he never finished the thought.

* * *

Win came home, clearly rather worried. “Oh Fred, he had no less than five wardings against his own powers!”

“Are you alright?” he asked immediately.

Her eyes softened. “You don’t have to worry, the short time they were up won’t harm me.”

“Pulled them down, then, pet?”

“Yes; you could see it did him a ton of good. I hope he’s fast asleep by now.”

A suspicion darted into his mind. “Winnifred –“

“I didn’t. I could have – you know I always have a few potions on me, for emergencies – but I didn’t. Just some tea to help him relax.” She paused as he helped her out of her coat, then continued, “I really don’t think he should go to work tomorrow.”

He’d already expected something like that. “Got something better to do, you mean?” he asked lightly.

She nodded. “He needs to learn how to control his gift – what to do with it. This suppression is only going to harm him in the long run.”

“Harm who?” Joan, who’d just come down, asked.

Fed glanced at Win. “Do you – or should I?”

* * *

He woke up slowly, from time to time dropping off into a comfortable morning doze. After all, his alarm would tell him when it was time to wake up properly; and he was feeling luxuriously lazy and well-rested for once. He could enjoy himself a little before he put the wardings back up.

Then he slowly blinked at his alarm and immediately sat up straight in bed.

Almost ten am? It couldn’t be – he was supposed to pick up DI Thursday – oh God –

He had just made it to the bathroom when his door bell rang out; seemed like they’d sent someone for him.

He couldn’t very well ask them to wait, so he sighed and opened the door.

* * *

Win could see the second the door opened that Endeavour ahs indeed slept well; she smiled at his tussled hair. He must only have gotten up.

He already had some colour back too, although that might have been him blushing, the sweet dear.

“Mrs. Thursday!”

“Win” she corrected him once more. “Good morning, Endeavour” she bustled past him, her faithful basket filled with everything they needed. “Fred said to tell you he doesn’t expect you in today.”

“But –“

“Now, why don’t you go get ready, I’ll set up here” she said, surveying the living room. “There are two ghosts around, the poor things need help.”

He seemed downright panicked, but there was nothing to it – he couldn’t deny what he was any longer. That simply wasn’t healthy.

* * *

As he washed up, he desperately tried to think of a way to let Mrs. Thursday down gently. He couldn’t start communicating with spirits, although, thanks to the wardings being down, he could indeed feel the two she’d talked about hovering nearby; but wouldn’t that signal that he did indeed judge her for her gift? He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Here” she said as soon as he’d returned, as clueless as to what to do than before, “I got us breakfast; no good helping ghosts cross over on an empty stomach.”

He swallowed then tried feebly, “Win…”

She beamed. “Quite right. Now here, eat your breakfast.”

He found himself wondering if Sam Thursday had left the country with the Army for a while simply because it was the only way one could prevent being forcibly cared for by his mother, then chided himself for the thought.

“Now” she began after they’d finished their toast and tea, “This is very easy – just a bowl of incense and sage to soothe them, and –“

“Win, I really think I shouldn’t.”

“You don’t have to be afraid, I have done this countless times. First, we have to figure out what exactly they want; don’t worry, should one of them want to stick around for a while, I’ll invite them to ours. Baby steps.”

What about this would be considered baby steps???

“Now, we light a candle…”

He had read about these sorts of rituals as a teen, feeling guilty even then for contemplating whether pulling down the warding Gwen had insisted on and embracing this… thing would make him feel better; Mrs. – Win explained it much clearer than any of the books in the library, though.

She grasped his hands. “Nothing better than to do it together, your first time. Sadie Gotham taught me all there was to know when I was still wearing pigtails.”

He nodded helplessly.

She squeezed his hands. “Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.”

He thought of eternal hellfire, of damned souls, of going against the divine plan, but didn’t say it out loud.

“You’ll see – close your eyes and concentrate on them, how they want to communicate.”

He did.

Yes, there they were – two souls, two ghosts, asking to be heard.

For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to listen and was almost overwhelmed by the feelings washing over him until Mrs. Thursday squeezed his hands again. “You’ll get used to it. Now, we have to help them move on.”

Of course she had already realized that was what they were asking for; now he could tell too –

“How?” he asked rather eagerly. Yes, he wanted to help, wanted to make them feel better –

“That’s what this is for –“ she nodded towards the bowl. “Take the candle and light it up. It will show them the way.”

And he could sense it as it did so, the feelings of relief and gratitude swirling in his head.

Win let go off his hands and smiled. “See? Doesn’t that feel better?”

“It does” he admitted “But – isn’t – aren’t we –“

“What is it, dear?”

He broke down and told her what he’d been raised to belief. “Isn’t this sorcery? Aren’t we damning ourselves?”

“By helping desperate souls?”

He’d never seen it like that.

He had a lot to think about.

“I’ve brought a few manuals” she said, fishing them out of her basket, “And of course you can ask me anything, anytime.”

“I really can’t thank –“ he found himself saying because this had felt – well – not just good but right. As if he should have been doing this all along. And really, could it be so bad, if Win had been doing it for decades?

“Hush now” she brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, “Of course I helped! I only wish I had known sooner.”

“I – I thought keeping it a secret…” he trailed off.

“I understand. I think it would be best if you took it easy for today, maybe read a bit in the manuals… and of course you’re coming over for dinner.”

“Win –“ when he saw her expression he immediately continued, “I’ll be there.”

She smiled happily. “It’s all going to work out fine, dear, you’ll see.”

* * *

When Win was gone, he went through the manuals. All of them agreed with what she had told him, as opposed to Dad and Gwen – and he was starting to wonder whether it shouldn’t have been important to them that the boy who’d just lost his mother should be comfortable in his own home.

It was strange – all these years, he’d fought against even contemplating his gift, and now that he’d allowed himself to feel it, it was as if he’d always known, deep down, that it didn’t make him evil or bad. It was part of him, and that was that.

He smiled a little wistfully to himself when he came to the part about apprentices, though.

Definitely no chance of that.

* * *

Win was thoughtful as she returned home, answering her family’s question satisfactorily enough before retiring to the kitchen.

There were decisions to be made.

She had, of course, been an apprentice to Sadie long before she ever knew what it meant; learning the ropes, ensuring she could help whichever spirit she came across, and eventually inheriting all her paraphernalia, her herbs, her knowledge when she moved on.

Until now though, even with her standing in the community, Win had never contemplated taking an apprentice herself; she considered the bond too sacred, and since the gift was rarely inherited, had always known that her children, as it had turned out to be true, wouldn’t have it and therefore she wouldn’t be able to pass anything on to them; but –

Endeavour was such a dear boy, and he needed guidance, that much was clear. Maybe… just maybe…

* * *

Fred wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the Morse who shyly knocked on their door that night at dinner-time was a very different creature from the one he’d talked to just yesterday already. He was smiling slightly, for one, and there was genuine, open affection in the way he greeted them all, especially Win, who he finally called by her first name.

And he’d never seen him eat so much.

“Sorry” he mumbled as Win gave him a third helping, “I’ve been feeling famished all day –“

“That’s normal, after one’s first séance. Just have a few more dumplings –“

Joan and Sam apparently found it highly amusing and had no problem having a drink with Fred in the living room after dinner, leaving them to it in the kitchen.

* * *

“Did you read the manuals?”

He nodded.

“Then you know it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“On the one hand – yes, Win, I feel it, but my upbringing…”

“You’ll just have to get used to it” she said. Yes, this awful upbringing… oh, they would see him alright. They _would_.

* * *

During the next few weeks, Fred couldn’t help but think that, in many ways, Morse – Endeavour, as they all soon got used to calling him since Win wouldn’t stop, as was normal for those who shared the gift – had become his wife’s bagman. They often met up for lessons, or training, as Win called it, and soon he was visiting others who either had the gift themselves or those who didn’t and were sadly still haunted by ghosts who quickly turned into poltergeists as a result, with her.

It didn’t surprise Fred in the least when their butcher, who Win had helped out a few years back, asked him one Saturday, “I hear your wife finally took an apprentice, Inspector?”

“Nothing’s official yet” he admitted, although he couldn’t help but feel it would have been the very best thing for them; it would, by the rules of the community, make Endeavour a permanent part of their family, and he already felt so much like one, it just seemed right.

The butcher snorted. “Right. She’s been sending him to smaller jobs already, from what I heard.”

She had indeed, and then he’d found them drinking tea in the kitchen, comparing notes.

Fred didn’t quite understand it all, but it seemed to work for them, and whatever made his wife and – yes, children happy, he was all for it.

* * *

Fred had had a drink with a few of his old comrades from the war one Sunday evening, and since he was close to Endeavour’s place, he decided he might as well check in.

After he’d rung, a knock on the door from within made him jump, but Endeavour looked calm as a cucumber as he answered. “Hello, Fred.”

They’d come to the silent agreement that they’d stick with first names outside of work about a week ago.

“Endeavour. Everything’s alright?”

“Yes, yes, Edgar just has to get used to how things work around here –“

“Edgar?”

He shrugged. “He knocked The Raven off my table, and he didn’t react favourably to either Alan or Poe.”

It made as much sense as anything.

* * *

He more felt than saw Endeavour stiffen as they entered the crime scene; a moment later, he mumbled the incantation that would ensure the ghost would follow him home rather than stay behind in the place where he’d met his end.

“Everything sorted, then?”

Endeavour’s face fell. “The murder victims… they are always difficult. All that rage and pain…”

Too bad they could only ever communicate feelings when they weren’t knocking things about, they would have made nice witnesses.

“I’ll see him right, though” he announced, unconsciously quoting Win, it seemed.

* * *

Halloween had always been a special day for them, ever since they got married. Win sent out and received the traditional gifts; and of course there was a nice dinner and the prayers for those they had helped move on and would in the year that was to come afterwards.

Tonight, it was even more of a celebration than usual, since Endeavour had immediately and happily agreed to come.

He really did look much better – he’d put on weight, for one thing, and seemingly no longer carried the weight on the world on his shoulders.

And he greeted Joan and Sam with all the familiarity of fondness Fred had seen on his face when talking about his younger sister.

Win swept him into a tight hug. “Endeavour! So glad you could make it!”

He hugged back. “Me too”. As he pulled back, he hesitated. “Is it just me or… does Sally feel it’s time to move on?”

She smiled brightly. “I wondered if you’d already been able to tell… we’ll help her after dinner, as part of the prayers. It will be a very special occasion.”

They had no idea just how special, since a moment later, another delivery was brought to their door.

“Oh. Denise Ackroyd. She’s so old, the poor dear, doesn’t travel very well anymore, Endeavour; I’ll take her to meet her one of these days…”

She trailed off. It wasn’t difficult to guess why – the address stated “For Win and Apprentice”.

They all looked at Endeavour.

He seemed unsure for a moment, then tentatively held out a hand. “Is that sage? I’ve been running low…”

Win drew him into another hug as Fred surprised himself by having to blink back tears and Joan and Sam cheered.

* * *

Fred wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject, but as he looked across the dinner table and saw the happy faces of his family – all four of them – he decided that maybe he didn’t have to.

Some things, he thought, as he watched Joan tease Endeavour about Wagner while Reginald was kind enough to season his plate, Sam laughed on and Win took his hand with a satisfied smile, just spoke for themselves.


End file.
